I choose you
by Ky03elk
Summary: A chance encounter leaves Kate questioning the decisions of her past and the road that she's currently walking with Castle. Will making a different choice lead to a new them? Or will the ghosts that haunt them both prove too much to overcome? A rewrite of 47 seconds.
1. Chapter 1

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I choose you

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Chapter One

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Let the bough break, let it come down crashing  
>Let the sun fade out to a dark sky<br>I can't say I'd even notice it was absent  
>Cause I could live by the light in your eyes<p>

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><p>Happy Birthday Jamie.<p>

Thank you for your friendship, your smile and endless support, in writing, in life xoxo

I hope your prompt/idea is everything you deserve xoxo

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><p>.<p>

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Listing to one side of the morgue's corridor, the blood rushes through Kate's veins, drowning out the voice on the other end of her cell until their words fade into the background.

Castle's arm falls across his daughter's shoulders, and, tucking her into his side, they move as one toward the exit, their slow pace emphasizing the exhaustion that lines Alexis' features.

The rumpled scrubs she wears contrast with the low ponytail swinging with each step; her appearance a frightening mixture of both far too old for her age and too young for what's happening here tonight.

Alexis shouldn't be tainted by such horror.

Yet, amid such devastation the proof of their relationship, the bond between father and daughter pulls at her lips. The sight of them together warms her heart, even if the desire to turn away - she's witnessing a private moment between the two of them - whispers from the corner of her mind.

But she's unable to. She can't even pretend that she isn't staring at them.

Staring at him.

Normally she's better at this - concealing the want and need for him - but this case, the tangled mess of emotions that comes with such loss of life, such meaningless violence has started an earthquake, has cracked open a fissure inside her, and the wall she's slowly been taking apart crumbles rapidly as a result.

But what does she do now that those fragments are crashing down around her?

Tucking the phone into her pocket - at least Gates is up to speed with the newest development, that Lanie discovered fragments of canvas embedded in their protest victim's body - Kate shifts from foot to foot, her gaze still caught on the empty space from where Castle disappeared, no doubt on his way home with Alexis.

She should follow his example. There's nothing more to be done here; there's nothing to be done until tomorrow when her day will start again.

The interviews. Trying to piece the puzzle together. Solve the mystery.

Pushing off the wall, her body shuffles toward the exit, the weight of what lies ahead somehow heavier now that she's by herself, and, as she pushes the door open, a sob from the adjacent corridor draws her focus.

Crouched with her head between her knees, blonde hair falling forward to hide her face, the woman shudders, her body thumping against the wall with each gut wrenching sound. The very definition of heartbroken.

"Are you okay?" Kate's eyes slam shut as soon as the words leave her mouth, the stupidity of asking such a question not lost on her, and she bends at the knees, situating herself next to the stranger.

The woman raises her head, the pale planes of her face marred with the bright red of her blood shot eyes, and Kate sucks in a rush of air. This is one of the family members, Val Brookstone. She's positive that Espo and Ryan had done the interview; she'd spoken to Castle in the break room after he'd watched them through the observation window.

"_And their future and all their plans, everything is just gone in a flash."_

His words haunt her as she sits beside the newly widowed woman, echo on loop, and she extends a hand, her fingers hovering over the trembling shoulder of Val. Kate has only comfort and a solid presence to offer and it's not even close to enough for someone whose world has been flipped upside down and stomped on until it's unrecognizable.

Anguish can occur so quickly, so unexpectedly.

She has the scars that prove that.

Moving her arm around Val, Kate eases the woman closer and as they sit together, her sobs ebb slowly until there's just a quiet that's so loud it's deafening.

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"Do you want some dinner, Alexis? It's late, but if you're hungry... Or we could skip it, go straight for ice cream? I'm sure we have a pint in the freezer. Or-"

"Dad."

He stumbles. His stride into the kitchen is interrupted as Alexis cuts through his rambling, but he doesn't stop until he can grasp the counter, prop himself up. The overwhelming need to turn around the frown etched onto his baby girl weighs a ton on his shoulders.

"What can I do, Alexis?"

What can he do to take away the image of a dead mother's bracelet? What can he do to make the world the place it was yesterday?

It's not the first time that he's been left with the desire to bundle his only child into his arms, to take them both far away to somewhere she'd never be faced with such horror, would never know the feeling of loss.

A sigh drifts from his lips. He can't, and even if he could, he probably shouldn't, but between the cloud shadowing the light in Beckett's expression as she'd gazed up at him in the break room, and the exhaustion rolling off his daughter, he doubts anyone would blame him for wanting to flee with the people he loves.

"I'd really like some nachos. The ones with the cheese that stretches when you pull it." She twirls her fingers together, her head tilting as she peers up at him and he has the distinct feeling that this late night take run is more for him than for her. "I love when we have a competition to see who can get the biggest cheese string."

"Of course, Alexis. Sounds perfect."

He's grateful to be doing anything that might help in some way, and, while sharing a plate of melted cheese and corn chips can't change what happened today, he can do this for her.

He can be useful.

"I'll be right back." Strolling toward her, he cups the back of her head, brushes his lips against her forehead. "You'll be okay here by yourself? Or do you want to come with?"

She indicates no, turning away to place her coat in the cupboard, swapping it over for his, and, pushing it into his hands, a soft smile adorns her features.

"I'll start on some hot cocoa for when you get back."

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"He makes me coffee." Val's voice cracks with the articulation of coffee and the circles that Kate had been rubbing along the heartbroken wife's back come to a halt at the statement. "He makes the best coffee and brings it to me in bed. He tries to make little hearts like the cafes, but it never turns out right."

Oh.

Swallowing her own sob at the thought - Castle brings her coffee, every morning - at what it would be like _not_ to have that hot beverage cupped within his palm, his smile automatically making her day better, Kate raises her hand, her fingers tucking the loose strands of Val's hair behind her ear.

"He sounds like a wonderful man."

Val's head lifts, her eyes making contact with Kate's for the first time, and nodding, she agrees.

"He is-" The pause rips at the scars lining Kate's heart. "He _was_ a truly wonderful man."

Past tense. How does one start imagining their life in past tense? All the memories that are, now never to be repeated. All the what ifs of tomorrow are no longer possible.

Not with the person that they should be with.

"I didn't tell him. This morning we were rushing because I was worried about making it to the guided tour we'd planned." A single tear slides down Val's cheek, and Kate finds her stare caught on its descent, the way the liquid hangs precariously for a moment before falling.

It can happen so quickly. What once was whole suddenly becomes shattered.

"I didn't tell him that I loved him. He should have heard that- Do you think he knew? Do you think he knew that I loved him?"

She can't breathe. Val's gaze locks with hers and yet it's not the blonde woman that she can see, not her eyes that Kate focuses on.

Castle's piercing blue hover above, his voice breaking as he pleaded with her to hold on, proclaimed that he loved her.

"_Kate, shh… Kate. Stay with me, Kate. Don't leave me, please. Stay with me, okay? Kate, I love you. I love you, Kate."_

She isn't ready to face him, to face the consequences of that day, that week, or the months that have followed, but what if this is it? What if every day she waits is one less that they will have?

What if something horrible happens to him and he doesn't know, never hears from her that she loves him too?

"He knows. Your husband knows. You told him even without the words, you were by his side. He-" Kate closes her eyes. "He knew that you loved him."

But Castle doesn't...

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Closing the door on Val's cab, Kate hesitates on the curb outside the morgue. The distraught widow is on her way back to her hotel room and Kate should be on her way back to her apartment but she's standing at a crossroad.

Does she play it safe and go back home?

Or take Val's story as a flashing neon light signaling that Kate can't keep waiting for tomorrow?

She extends her hand, the indecision tugging the puckered skin that's nestled between her breasts. Make a choice, it's just a matter of making a choice.

Climbing into the taxi after it comes to a halt in front of her, Kate's mouth opens, an address spilling out from her lips.

Debate rages on though. Regardless that a part of her is at least taking control of the situation, her hand rises, the nail of her thumb becoming trapped between her teeth.

Has she given the right address? Is she traveling along the right road?

Or is she making a mistake that will come crashing down around her?

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Each step forward slows, her pace decreasing until she comes to a stop. The rush of blood attempts to drown out the screech of fear over where she is, what she's about to do, but the noise can't compete with her doubts, and she turns on the spot.

"_Do you think he knew that I loved him?"_

Kate's eyes slam shut as Val's whispered question invades her cowardly retreat and she's pivoting once more, facing the right way.

Facing Castle's front door.

He deserves the world. Deserves happiness and joy.

Most of all he deserves the truth from her... and she closes the gap between herself and the barrier between them, lifts her hand to knock against the wooden surface.

He deserves to hear that he's loved by her, that every thump of her scarred heart beats a tattoo of his name, that for every ounce of terror that courses through her veins - the what ifs of crashing and burning - she has a thousand more that desire a life with him.

And she knocks...

Silence extends, there's no rush of footsteps to the door, no, "I'll get it." and Kate inhales sharply through her nose.

What if they're all asleep?

She has courage _now_, has Val's tears staining her shirt _now_ and the woman's cracked yearning plays on loop _now_.

She wants to tell him now... but?

The sound of feet against the floorboards inside the loft throws her thoughts, her ability to breathe, and the steady - although rapid - momentum of her heartbeat into complete disarray, and as her nails claw crevices out of her palms, the door opens.

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Happy Birthday again Jamie xoxo

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Thank you to Jo for the beta, and to both of you for your pompoms xoxo

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Thank you for reading xoxo


	2. Chapter 2

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I choose you

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Chapter Two

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I'll unfold before you  
>What I've strung together<br>The very first words  
>Of a lifelong love letter<p>

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><p><em>The sound of feet against the floorboards inside the loft throws her thoughts, her ability to breathe, and the steady - although rapid - momentum of her heartbeat into complete disarray, and as her nails claw crevices out of her palms, the door opens.<em>

"Alexis?"

Kate's heart plummets. They may be the same blue eyes staring back at her but it's the wrong Castle, and her shoulders drop an inch, the letdown flooding like a tsunami through her veins.

"Detective Beckett? What are you doing here?" The chill in the younger girl's tone transforms the wave of disappointment flowing through Kate into an icicle, freezes the heat and the bubbles of nervous energy that had started in the morgue, until a shudder races along her spine, and she lists back a fraction.

"I-" Damn. How does she answer that? What can she say without the truth spilling forth? Explain the way she's currently being pulled in a thousand different directions over the past, over her future. She needs Castle. "Is your dad in?"

"Has there been a development?"

A what?

Alexis' question throws her for a loop; it wasn't the "yes" she'd hoped for, or even a soul crushing "no", and she draws her eyebrows together, opens her mouth a fraction as she searches for context.

"Did you find the bomber?" Pale, shaking fingers swipe at the wisps of red hair escaping from their sagging ponytail, before Alexis crosses her arms, her eyes sparking with hope.

"No." Oh, the case. A warmth rises high on her face, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Every thought for the last hour, from the second she'd placed Val into the back of the taxi, has been consumed by her personal life, by the decisions she's made and the choices that lie ahead of her.

Not once had the case impeded on those deliberations, much to her shame.

"No. It's not about work. I just… Is he here?"

Peering around his daughter, she attempts to see into the loft, to see _him,_ and her blatant staring seems to jolt Alexis out of her own contemplation. She steps back, holding the door wide in silent invitation, and with a small wave, she ushers Kate inside.

"He went to get us some dinner. But he's been gone awhile so he should be back soon, if you wanna wait?"

Smiling at Alexis, Kate slips through and stands in the entryway, before shuffling to one side as the younger girl closes the door. The lock clicking into place sounds like cymbals crashing, her shoes on the polished floor a herd of elephants stomping, and the desire to start some kind of small talk, something to hide the uncomfortable quiet that exists between them, flares.

If only she could come up with a safe topic, a middle ground that won't end in even more stillness. Unfortunately she has no idea where to begin?

Once upon a time they could have been considered close. Friends? At least acquaintances… now? Now there's nothing but awkward silence as they gaze around the room, looking at anything but each other. Apparently, they're both unable to function without the buffer that Castle has become.

"Would you like a drink?"

Oh, thank goodness.

"Yes, I would love one."

Following Alexis over to the kitchen, Kate releases a sigh of frustration. Over her inability to smooth the wrinkles between herself and the younger girl. Over the past and the pain she's caused this family. Over him.

Of all the scenarios she'd imagined on the way here, Castle being absent wasn't one she had entertained; her lack of imagination probably why she's the cop and he's the writer.

And while she can't change the fact that he isn't here, she can at least work on the bridge that needs to be built between her and Alexis.

"So how's school going? Your dad mentioned how proud he was of-"

"You guys talk about me?"

Alexis' incredulous question cuts through her sentence, a razor sharp knife that flies from her lips and the implication that Kate may have well and truly put her foot in her mouth brings their slight progression to a halt.

How to screw up in less than thirty seconds.

But then Alexis peers up from beneath her lashes, her fingers tangling into a mess at her stomach, a twist appearing in the corner of her mouth, and her uncertainty becomes clear.

"Your dad's very proud of what you do. At school. At the morgue."

A soft smile splits Alexis' weary features in half, the rush of relief leaving her and it carries to where Kate stands. She attempts to control her face into one that's more neutral, attempts to reign in the joy that's erupting like butterflies from her chest. Grinning over the poor girl's insecurities is hardly going to win her any favors, but she's made a breakthrough, even if it's miniscule in nature.

She remembers what it's like to crave that approval from her parents, to want the knowledge that she was doing a good job in life, that she was worth her place in their day.

Not that she would have ever admitted as much to them.

If only she had a chance to go back, tell her parents, tell her mom all the hidden truths that existed deep within her, the ones concealed behind teenage rebellion and sarcastic comments. If only she could hear that her mom was proud of who she was, of who she'd become.

Life could be ripped away so quickly, wasn't that the reason why she was there?

"I-" Her phone interrupts, the buzz intruding at the worst possible time, and she lifts a hand in apology, turning away to answer, her heart descending until it cracks at her feet. "Beckett."

With half an ear she listens to Ryan call her back into the precinct, while out of the corner of her eye she watches Alexis as she heads to the fridge, pulling open the door to retrieve a small bottle of juice, the wide smile firmly plastered on her face.

Today has been one discouraging moment after the other, but at least she did something good here tonight, because what she'd wanted to do isn't going to happen.

"Yeah. I'm heading there now."

Damn it.

.

.

He should have headed home by now, the nachos are no doubt a soggy mess in the bag, their aroma no longer mouth-watering. Except they were never bought to be eaten. He knows that Alexis was just trying to make him feel useful, that after a day of being nothing but useless he needed to do something, and he's grateful for it.

Spending the day being of no assistance to anyone was taking its toll on him.

And yet he can't quite make his way back to the loft, has stalled on the sidewalk, his back resting on the brick wall by the doorway. There's a peace about the city at this late hour. The constant buzz of noise still rings - it's New York City after all - but it's slowed down, traffic lessened. The shadows thrown from the streetlights combine with still lit up shop fronts, and the result softens the edges of his world.

It's stupid but his hand reaches for his phone, and, opening the camera, he snaps a photo of the skyline above. The impulse to send it to Beckett leaves his thumb hovering above the screen, the indecision delaying him further.

Would she see what he sees? Would she understand that the waiting they've been doing - that he's been doing - can finally stop, that they're both so very lucky to be here considering how quickly life can be ripped away.

Except it's not that simple; the solid wall between them is a complicated structure that soars well above his head.

Why does it have to be this way though? Why does he have to stand on his side of her barrier? Why can't he be brave enough to say the words that balance on the tip of his tongue? Tell her again.

He knows why.

Because if she fled from him, if she's not ready, he doesn't know if he could pick himself off the ground…

The sigh that fills the night air catches the attention of the girl exiting through the door next to him, her eyes full of pity and curiosity as she lingers for a second longer than appropriate, and he lifts a heavy hand, forces a smile onto his face.

He's fine. If he keeps telling himself that, he'll be fine.

And turning toward Broome Street, he shuffles in the direction of home.

.

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"I have to head back to the Precinct." Each word comes out of her mouth weighing more than the last, and Kate swallows the defeat.

The effort it took for her to get this far, to make it to Castle's front door is now for nothing. She's walking away without having made any progress on where they stand, on fixing the wrongs in her life, and honestly, she can see how all the determination and fire that had helped to get her here will be a dying ember by tomorrow.

Wasn't she already turning away before she'd knocked? Shifting back and forth like a yoyo as the indecision ran rampant?

"Oh. I hope everything's okay? There hasn't been another…?"

"No, Alexis, no. Nothing like that I promise, just a development." Waving a hand in dismissal, she draws her lower lip between her teeth, the flat edges piercing as she volleys internally over what to say next. "Can you tell Castle…"

Tell him what? That she was here? That she'd held a distraught widow who had the misfortune of being at the wrong place at the wrong time, and as her tears created salt paths of mourning, the realization that their tomorrow was never guaranteed caused an earthquake underneath the wall she hides behind?

She's always known their tomorrow was never promised. Her life is nothing but an example of that… so why now?

"Did you want to leave him a message?" Alexis hurries to the couch, rifling through her bag, and standing up straight, she holds a notepad high in one hand.

"Yeah, that-" It sounds like a good idea, but putting into words the jumbled clutter in her head could take the next several days. "Yeah, I can do that?"

Alexis raises an eyebrow; clearly Kate wasn't the only one who could hear the question there - _can she?_ - and with unsteady legs she closes the gap between them, her hand trembling as she takes the notepad, her death grip blanching her fingers white.

The blank sheet mocks her, the pen Alexis had offered drumming a steady beat against the table, and Kate stares, her eyes unable to move away from the lined paper, as all she wants to say fights for the right to be written, while simultaneously fighting to stay hidden in the corner of her soul.

She just has to be brave.

His words have been there for her, long before she'd ever strutted up to that rooftop bar, her badge in hand, and she can do this, reveal the truth that rests within her, leave a little hope that she won't forget what she came here to do, that she's finally got it right.

That tomorrow won't go back to the 'normal' that they usually live by.

Inhaling deeply, she places the pen on the paper, strings together a sentence that with any luck will catapult them towards a new way of being.

The very first words of a lifelong love letter…

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><p>.<p>

Thank you again, and also to those that I couldn't reply to through pm xoxo

.

Thank you to Jo for your beta skills xoxo

.

Thank you for reading xoxo


	3. Chapter 3

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I choose you

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Chapter three

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There was a time when I would have believed them  
>If they told me you could not come true<br>Just love's illusion

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Rick breathes in. The coffee aroma invades not only his sense of smell, but he swears that he can taste the heavenly, smooth liquid coating his tongue, the warmth sliding down his throat. Then again, his imagination has been on overdrive this morning, his brain running off in a thousand different directions, conjuring up scenarios about how the rest of today will play out.

"_So, how do you plan to act on this realization?"_

He half turns in the line; the string of people awaiting their morning cup of joe stretching out the door, but his mother isn't here, even if he can hear her question as clear as when she'd said it earlier in his office.

He'd brushed her aside with "you don't understand," but as she'd talked about their situation not being as complicated as he was making it, how "Nobody's tomorrows are guaranteed," his hand had come to rest on the pocket of his jeans, the piece of paper from last night solid beneath his palm. He couldn't speak of it then, still finds himself lingering where he'd later tucked Kate's note into his coat, next to his heart.

If only he knew what her letter meant.

Her five words have etched themselves onto his soul, and they now float within his veins, traveling like a carousel around and around until he's dizzy from them. Was all that he'd hoped for - her wall coming down, her wanting him to be there after it does, a life together - about to be realized?

Or do the words mean something else altogether? Are they not about them?

_Him_…?

Reaching, he pulls her message out, his hands trembling. It's as if he's opening up the note for the first time, as if he's standing in his kitchen again, the overpowering smell of soggy nachos replacing the wonderful scent that actually fills the air.

Alexis had casually mentioned that Beckett had visited, had headed back to the precinct though, something about Ryan calling her, and he'd been torn about what to do for all of five seconds; should he rush out the door to see what had happened? Or stay at home with his daughter?

And then she'd told him that there was a note, that Beckett had left behind a message for him, folded and placed under a clean coffee mug.

There was no moving after that. His world had narrowed to that lined piece of notepad, its jagged edges as fragile as he was. Being there was the very definition of an out of body experience, and he'd barely noticed that Alexis had wished him good night, climbing up the stairs, a pause every other step.

Yet, the sensation as he'd stared at the paper was nothing compared to the emotions that had ripped him apart as he'd opened the sides, her black cursive appearing bold against the stark white.

_I've finally got it right._

Shifting from foot to foot in the coffee shop, he brushes a thumb over the loop that descends with the _g_, a hesitant smile tugging at his lips. He's a glass half full kind of guy and this has to be... good? Surely the universe isn't that cruel?

"Hey, dude. You gonna order?"

He angles his head toward the impatient voice behind him, meets their raised eyebrows with a pair of his own, and as they indicate to the counter, Rick faces forward again.

Whoops.

With his mind, body and soul at war with itself, with what could be, and what will he do about Kate's message, he's failed to notice the line has disappeared from before him.

"Sorry."

He has to get it together, he can't show up at the precinct like this. A steady hand and a gentle offense is needed to make the first step, to find out what exactly she meant when she'd written that she'd finally got it right.

Coffee. Coffee will help. Coffee always helps.

And maybe some of those heart shaped pastries would be a good idea as well.

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Kate half stands in her chair before falling back down, her fingers drumming a steady beat against her desk as she eyes the break room. She'd missed her morning coffee, had barely given her French press a fleeting glance before she'd rushed out the door, the city more dark than light, and now...

Making her own when it's nearly time for Castle to arrive seems like blasphemy, but nothing had come of the lead last night, and when she had crawled into bed, she'd only managed to doze restlessly. What she'd done - what she'd written - had made sleep damn near impossible.

She still has no idea where those words had come from, but in that moment they were true. They _are_ true. She's finally got it right. She has figured it out. She can't keep standing on her side of the wall as she does the work, that a part of doing therapy, of sorting through her issues also means that she has to move forward.

She's figured out that maybe standing alongside Castle as she tears down those last remaining bricks, the ones which stubbornly remain after their near misses and the earthquakes that come with heartbreaking revelations - her eyes flutter close every time she thinks of Val - is the right thing to do. No more hiding. No more running.

Letting him in isn't a sign of weakness. It's a sign of strength.

After all, doesn't Burke hum encouragingly, his chin resting on the tips of his angled fingers, as he asks, "What do you want, Kate?"

She wants Castle.

More than that, she wants to be a woman who is greater than her past, more than a news story, or a scar that brands her with how close life can come to disappearing.

"Beckett."

"Espo? Any news?"

His head shakes, both hands jamming into his pockets as his shoulders shrug.

"Just thought you might want a coffee?"

Her exhaustion sucks like leeches on top of her skin, pulling at the reserve of energy saved for days like today and she opens her mouth, the "yes" she wants to say hovering on the tip of her tongue, before closing her lips, she swallows that answer.

"No. I'm good."

Scepticism crashes his features, his stare comprehending far too much. The angled edge to her cheekbones, the black smudges underneath each eye. Kate's sure that he can see everything that's clear to her when she gazes into the mirror; in the harsh light of the precinct, there's no where to hide the tell tale signs of fatigue.

Make up can only do so much.

"I'm fine."

His head tilts down sharply at her platitude, turning away in the direction of the break room as he mutters not so quietly, "Castle will be here soon."

Slumping into her chair, she pushes her lips together, fights the grin begging to erupt.

Espo has read her like a book, assumed the reason behind her coffee refusal correctly - Castle. It's not the first time. He's been able to work out the games they've played for far too long.

But not anymore.

No more games, no more honing their skills with the waltz of subtext, no more white lies, or _actual _lies.

When Castle asks what she'd finally got right, she'll tell him.

Them. They're right. Their love isn't an illusion. It's real.

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Rick thrusts his elbow into the elevator's up button, each hand occupied with their morning coffee, and as he steps back a fraction, out of the way of those who are exiting, he stares down at Beckett's mug.

What was he thinking?

He should have just grabbed the pastries, their heart shaped symbol could have easily been blamed on the coffee shop, a simple "That's all they had." But this...

This is clear.

And each thump of his heart sounds a little bit louder than the last one in his ears, a little bit faster as he prepares to face her this morning.

"Everything okay, Castle?"

Snapping his head up, he fumbles as he turns toward Anderson's voice, grinning even as he shifts the coffees to his hips, attempts to hide Beckett's lid from prying eyes.

"Good. Well as good as a day like this can be, in any case. And you? How's your wife's new job? She settling in okay?"

Anderson beams, their conversation pausing while they step inside the elevator.

"She's doing marvellously. Not that I didn't think she would. But she doubted herself at every turn."

The officer's smile is wide, teeth flashing and Castle nods. That's something he understands all to well at the moment.

"But she's on the other side of the nerves now? So everything is as she'd hoped?"

"All that she'd dreamed about, Castle. All that she'd dreamed."

Exhaling, he leans against the elevator's wall behind him, divides his gaze between Anderson's happy features and the cup in his right hand. Kate's cup.

His palms are sweating, although it has nothing to do with the warmth radiating from the coffee. His fingers are almost white as he strains to keep from gripping too hard, from shaking over the step that he's about to take.

She made the first move, he's merely returning the favor.

But his is a little more text than subtext, even if she was the one to use words.

.

.

"Hey."

Looking up from the report in her hand, her breath hitches at the sight of Castle, before she sucks too much air back in.

"Hey." The sound out of her mouth is all breathy adolescent schoolgirl, and she waves between them as he sits in his seat, a coffee in each hand, and, dropping her head down, her loose curls fall to conceal her face.

Already hiding.

"Are you okay, Beckett?"

She pushes the curtain of hair aside, peers through hooded lashes toward her partner, relief smothering the molecules of worry that remain even after her earlier pep talk to herself. She'll start small, start their conversation with something normal.

"I missed breakfast. One of those for me?"

He's holding them back, each of the mugs resting high on his thigh, one of them slanted toward his abdomen, and she extends a hand before withdrawing it, her fingers curling into a fist as she plants it in her lap.

She was really hoping to have a caffeine hit before things got serious between them.

"Yeah." He looks down, seems to stare at the coffee on his right leg, his forehead creasing adorably. "Yeah, one of these is for you."

There's no movement from him though, no passing her the much wanted and needed liquid, and she catches her bottom lip between her teeth.

It was a lot easier to make forward progress in her head. A lot easier to make the choices that need to be made when he wasn't sitting beside her. She just has to tell him…

"I"

"I"

The beginning of their sentences join together as one, a beautiful symphony even if it only lasts for a beat, and her lips draw back as she flashes him the widest smile she can manage.

"You go first, Beckett."

He's putting the ball in her court, letting her lead - didn't they argue about this not that many months ago?

"Didn't I make the first move last night?"

His head ducks, once again staring at the coffee mug, the one he still hasn't handed over to her, and then as he raises his eyes inch by inch to meet hers, the serious cloud haunting his expression steals her breath. Again.

"You did. And I- If it means what I think it does- If by right-"

"Beckett."

Listing her head to the side, she reluctantly turns toward Ryan's urgent tone. Why? Why _now_?

"We've got something."

Her partner jerks to a standing position, is already moving to follow Ryan when he unceremoniously drops a coffee cup onto her desk, and she groans out an, "Ahhh?"

Then her gaze lands on the lid and her lips snap shut.

_Oh,_ Castle.

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Thank you again xoxo and I hope everyone has survived the week ;-)

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Thank you to Jo for the beta, and to both her and Jamie for the kick when I need it! xoxo

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Thank you for reading xoxo


	4. Chapter 4

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I choose you

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Chapter Four

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But then you found me and everything changed  
>And I believe in something again<p>

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_Her partner jerks to a standing position, is already moving to follow Ryan when he unceremoniously drops a coffee cup onto her desk and she groans out an "Ahhh?" _

_Then her gaze lands on the lid and her lips snap shut._

_Oh, Castle_.

On the lid there are two hearts, their sides crossing over, entwining them together, and Kate grins, her hand rising to her lips, fingers spreading wide. The thought of him standing in the coffee shop, or maybe even at the loft this morning, sharpie hovering above the white, blank canvas as he'd pondered what to say, what to do in reply to her note, leaves her giddy inside.

If she'd made the first move last night, he's well and truly met her head on with his drawing, his intentions clear for everyone to see.

He loves her.

Not just when everything was falling apart, when they were faced with a future without each other, but he continues to love her after all this time, after the months in which she's held him at arm's length.

Bringing the cup to her mouth, she pauses, inhaling the magnificent aroma that drifts toward her. The need to get up and follow Ryan and Castle into the tech room can't be ignored, still, she can delay them for a second, can savor this gift.

Today's coffee is more than she'd expected, brought more than just a smile to her face. The butterflies have been released from the net she hides them in, dancing through her chest and along her arms until her fingers tremble with the anticipation at what could come next.

At what _will _come next.

And as the warm, smooth liquid slides across her tongue, she closes her eyes, truly enjoys the sensation of everything changing for the better.

.

.

"I'd like to talk to my lawyer."

Kate grinds her teeth, forcing her lips together now that her hands are tied, now that all further questioning of Andrew Haynes has to come to a stop. She's left with no other option than to turn and walk out of the interrogation room, and it's shredding every one of her nerves.

She should have been able to get him to confess; she had one job in that room, and, shutting the door behind her - hopefully one of the boys will inform Gates on her behalf - she stalks into the break room, failure eating at her insides.

The joy she'd felt as she'd looked upon the lid of her coffee cup is sliding away, and the frustration that's rising in its place leaves indentations in her palms, her nails clawing into her skin.

She couldn't get a confession.

"Hey."

Pivoting toward Castle, she halts her lap around the table, lifts her gaze to join with his. Her mom had always said to blow her anger out, lest she transfer it onto an unsuspecting bystander, and Kate tries to follow the ghost of advice, the huff of air against her lips hot as she exhales.

"Espo is talking to Gates." His shoulder shrugs, hands burying deep within his pockets, and she lifts the corner of her mouth, a half smile just for him. This is the first time since he'd dropped her coffee and dashed after Ryan that they've had a minute to themselves, a private moment for her to express her appreciation for the hearts he'd given her, except this isn't how she envisioned their conversation.

She wants her good mood returned, for starters.

"You were great in there, Beckett."

"I didn't do enough. Didn't get the confession that we need, and now he's lawyered up..." Dropping her head forward, she studies the lines of her favourite boots, the scuffs that portray their overuse, and she breathes out again, attempts to stem the flood of annoyance. "The Feds will probably step in now, take him away, and destroy what little progress we've made."

"That doesn't mean that what you did wasn't great. It just means that he knows how to work the system."

Raising her head, she lists it to one side, watches Castle as he looks at her, his gaze never straying, and the sensation of having him stare straight into her, to see every one of her insecurities, each vulnerable corner of her soul, leaves her heart drumming a pattern against her ribs so loud she's sure he can hear the noise.

Can he tell that it beats for him?

"Thank you."

It's his turn to duck his head, even as his face breaks into a grin, the edges of his eyes crinkling, a flush of red adding a shine to his cheeks. They don't do this very often - express their emotions or bring voice to the gratitude that comes with knowing that they're there for each other. Partners. It's one of the many things that needs tochange as they move forward together; the ability to share how they feel. Be honest with each other.

"Beckett, maybe another coffee would help? It can't hurt."

Castle strolls toward the machine, the delight continuing to illuminate his features, and she steps in his way, lifting a hand to catch the back of his wrist with her thumb. She's paused his progress, and as she drifts a loop over the fine hairs that dusts his skin, she attempts to work out what to do next.

Words worked for her last night. They brought about a transformation to them that has been lacking, absent because of the holding pattern she had placed them in, and she squeezes her fingers under the cuff of his shirt. They don't usually touch, not like this, but risk taking seems to be working for them right now, and she can't bring herself to pull away.

"I'm good. I think the first one is still working its magic."

His gaze crashes into hers, his muscles contracting under her palm, and the air within the room crackles with the electricity that they're producing.

"I thought you didn't believe in magic?"

"I thought you knew you'd changed my mind."

The rapid back and forth comes to a stop, and she darts a tongue between her teeth, licks her lips in anticipation, his eyes dropping as he tracks her actions.

"So you liked your coffee this morning?"

"Yes."

She'd loved her coffee, would have skipped the halls, and danced in the rain if only she were the star of a black and white movie, but instead she slides her hand along the length of his, interlocks her fingers in the spaces that she knows - in her sappier moments - were designed for her alone. "I-"

"Yo, Beckett."

Jumping back with a force that steals her breath and removes her grasp on Castle, Kate spins, her eyes flashing. "_What?_"

"You're…" Espo looks between Castle and herself, his forehead creasing as his mouth opens and closes like a shutter in the wind. "Wanted in Gates' office. The FBI is already here."

Fuck it all to hell.

.

.

Standing not so discreetly by the window, Castle peers through the blinds, watches Beckett and Gates break the news to the FBI agent that the street drummer they've found has rescued Haynes from suspicion. He's not their bomber and nobody is happy about that fact. Or the fact that the real bomber is still out there.

The door flies open, the sudden movement causing him to jump to one side, and as he attempts to look busy by the murder board, the agent comes barreling out of the office, a storm cloud gathering on his features.

The brusqueness of his glare whips around the bullpen - several younger offices scurry in the opposite direction - and narrowing his eyes further at those unaffected, he blusters his way through the bullpen.

Ass.

Thankful to see the back of him, Castle turns toward Gates' office again, only to spin away as she exits immediately after. If the agent looked like an approaching thundercloud, Gates appears to be channeling a tornado. The expression on her face is downright murderous.

He should probably retreat into the break room while the weather is this horrid, except Beckett still hasn't come out yet, and the reason for his position - as dangerous as it could be - was to see her.

And the door opens for the third time.

"Hey." He tries for reassuring and sympathetic - informing the FBI that they arrested the wrong guy and it's slightly the NYPD's fault was always going to hurt - and her tired eyes join with his.

"Hey."

"How did it go? He seemed…" Cranky? Unhappy? Annoyed?

"Yeah. We've been given the go ahead to chase down our new suspect. But they're holding onto Haynes in the meantime."

Her head cants forward as she studies the sketch of their alleged bomber in her hands, the line between her forehead deepening the longer she stares, and he reaches forward, drifts his thumb across her knuckles.

"Do you have a second?"

It's wrong, he knows it, but the desire to discover what she was going to say in the break room lies heavy under his skin.

"Everybody gather around." Gates' order from the center of the room answers his question, and he slumps. Maybe they should stop trying to have their moment in the middle of such an important and life threatening case. They've made progress today, her message catapulting them forward in ways he'd only imagined, that he'd only been able to dream about.

They're so close to being there, being together, but it's not going to happen today.

"Don't worry about it, Beckett. It can wait. _We _can wait until after the case." He doesn't want to wait - the want for her is fire in his veins - but he can.

And this isn't a step back. This is just a speed bump slowing them down… right?

.

.

"I'm going to take this pile home. See if I can spot our suspect somewhere in here."

Castle lifts the files up - an armful of folders - and she does her best to appear as if she understands and agrees, even if what she really wants to do is sit him down in his chair and finish what they'd started in the break room.

But he's right. This is hardly the time.

He's turning away and while she may be standing by her desk at work, the feeling that washes over her is exactly the same as last night. She had to leave his loft without having the chance to do what she'd gone there to do, say what she wanted to say, what _needed _to be said, and while today she's tried - and been interrupted - the fact that Castle is going home without getting anything more from her gives that wave of emotions barbed tentacles.

She at least has her hearts, has the knowledge that he made a step forward for them today.

He has nothing from her since last night, and she has to fix that.

"Castle, wait."

Wait. Their life at the moment seems to be nothing _but_ waiting, except what can she do right this second? What can she do in the middle of this case when trying to move forward is met with disruption after disruption?

"Yeah?"

Dropping her gaze to her computer, to her elephants lined up in an adorable row, to the papers awaiting her attention, she searches for some way to tell him that she's grateful for him, that he's here every day.

That his presence by her side has her believing again.

In hope. In love. In them.

She grabs for a pen, pulling open the desk's drawer with her free hand, and, ripping off a post it, she scrawls a message of hope across the yellow paper before sticking it on top of her own interview files.

Writing helped last night. Helped in ways she'd never expected, and while they aren't the words she wants to say, the entire truth that she has to tell him - that will have to be said in person - these can't hurt their situation.

He should know the effect that he has.

Picking up her folder, she stretches, holds it out for him to take.

"Don't forget mine."

His hand trembles slightly - it could be her imagination though - a thumb ghosting across hers as he takes it from her fingers, their eyes meeting, and for a moment there is no noise despite the drone of the bullpen. There is no one else besides the two of them.

And it's breathtaking.

"Thanks."

Nodding at her, he edges backward, twisting at the last minute, barely avoiding a collision with an officer, and with a grin, she tucks her chin against her chest.

He gave her the ability to believe again and there's an amazing sensation burning inside of her, knowing that she's been able to give a small part of that back to him with her note.

_I believe in something again_.

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Look no cliffy, lol, was afraid I'd have to start sleeping with one eye open ;-)

Thanks once more, and to those that were guests. Much love xoxo

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Thanks to Jo for the edits and my girls for all their encouraging words xoxo

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Thanks for reading xoxo


	5. Chapter 5

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I choose you

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Chapter Five

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My whole heart  
>Will be yours forever<br>This is a beautiful start  
>To a lifelong love letter<p>

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Leaning forward, Rick rests his elbows on his desk, the chair creaking in the silence of his office. Both of her notes - her love letters, not that he'd say that in front of Beckett - lay open before him, and he traces over her handwriting with his finger.

It's been his reward after he finishes each folder Gates gave him; he'd taken a break, his heart pounding as he'd reread what Beckett had written. The only problem with his continuous pausing is that it's been slowing him down - even with his skills as a speed reader - and he should have been out the door a while ago.

He has no regrets though.

The hope and wonder that infuses every part of his soul as he looks upon her words has been worth the extra time, even if at some point last night, or maybe it was early this morning, he'd become a little delirious with the sensation.

Granted the buzzing in his head and the ability to hear his brain singing could also be contributed to the collection of coffee cups discarded around the loft, but mostly it's due to her. Kate.

He rolls her first name on his tongue, the articulation unfamiliar after the last three years of Beckett - he's _not_ thinking about all the times when her first name has slipped from his lips - and he smiles, his gaze stopped on where her '_right'_ sits bold on the paper. Kate sounds right. Kate sounds like home, and dinners at the counter, and falling into bed after a hard day's work-

He shakes his head. Jumping the gun isn't going to help here, they have a long way to go yet, and as he avoids looking up at the screen on the wall, at the electronic murder board it contains, he places the yellow post-it on top of the lined notepaper.

Staring at them all morning isn't going to get their case solved, isn't going to move them forward. What he should be doing is heading back to the precinct and finding out if the rest of the team have had any success tracking down their new suspect because he's had no luck.

And maybe grabbing a coffee for Beckett - for them both - on the way. Maybe if his system has enough caffeine in it his brain will do more than sing, maybe it will give him the answers that he needs to crack this case wide open.

Before he can leave though, his train of thought is interrupted yet again, by a small voice in the doorway.

"Dad? Is everything all right?"

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Slumping forward, Kate rests her forehead against the mirror, the noise from the bullpen penetrating the thin walls of the ladies restroom.

She's exhausted. She'd spent another night staring up at her ceiling, her mind unable to stop the barrage of worries and questions from running around, over and over.

About the case. About Castle_._

Who was the young man seen dropping the bag beside the lamppost? How does she overcome the fact that she's been "sinning by silence" to Castle? How can she explain that she's been telling lies in an effort to protect him from how broken she was, and still is? How does she let him know that she's been holding onto the truth that she remembers every second of being shot.

How does she tell him without destroying their chance of a future? And what will she do if he turns and walks away from her, unable to forgive what she's done?

Flipping on the faucet, she cups her hand under the rush of water, splashing her face in an attempt to drag herself out of the tired rut she's currently standing in. Starting the loop of what ifs again isn't going to help. Not the case, and definitely not them, and she has to snap out of this, focus on what she can control, what she can make right.

Her notes - she really hopes he found the yellow post-it tucked within her files - had been the right choice, a good start; one she needs to build on today.

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.

"Of course, Alexis. Everything's fine. Why do you ask?"

Pushing away from his desk, he half stands before she walks into his office, setting the plate in her hands onto the stack of files, and his heart stutters.

"These are emergency cheering up pancakes-"

"Is that the note Detective Beckett left for you the other night?" Her question trembles through his words, and the hesitancy in her tone, the way her fingers shake as she indicates to the two different colored pieces of paper, shuts his lips with a snap.

There's an undercurrent in the room, a tide of anxiety and he searches his daughter's face.

"What did she write, Dad?"

"Why does it matter?"

Lifting both hands, he scrubs them across his cheeks, rakes his blunt nails hard into his scalp. He's operating on far too little sleep and with far too many thoughts of his future to understand what's happening in this second.

"Your pancakes are cold." The melancholy that covers her statement is thicker than any syrup could be and he jumps up, rounding his desk to fold her inside his arms.

"Hey, pumpkin, I can reheat them." He brushes his lips to her crown, inhaling deeply. There's no scent of baby powder, no lingering sunshine and park clinging to his little girl. She's eighteen now and he closes his eyes. Where did all those years go?

And pulling back a fraction, he peers down at her, tackles the issue head on.

"This isn't about pancakes though. Is it? Not about them going cold? It's about Beckett."

Alexis shifts from foot to foot in his arms, and he releases her, gives her the space she needs to get this off her chest. If - when - he starts a life with Kate, his daughter will be a big component of that, will always be a part of his life regardless of how old she gets, where she lives, and he's not working on one relationship just to fracture another.

"It's not her. It's just-" Her fingers interlock as she stretches them before her, clearly looking for the right words and he pushes his lips together. The desire to jump in may be strong, but it has to be ignored.

"This case, even before it, working at the morgue, being at the crime scenes, seeing the things you see." Her eyes meet his. "I've done a lot of things to be proud of, Dad, but for the first time I'm doing something of value. I help Doctor Parish and she makes a difference to how quickly you solve a case, to the families who have lost a loved one, but..."

Here it comes. And he straightens his shoulders.

"I hear things when I'm there, stuff maybe I shouldn't. Close calls that you've faced. Things that have happened over the years. And at any time it could be you lying down there."

There's a pause and the gravity of what she's saying seeps into his skin.

"And now, judging by your smile, something's changed. Because every time I walked in here to tell you I'd made breakfast, you didn't even hear me approach, you were lost in..." Her hand sweeps above his desk. "Whatever she wrote - did you get another one?"

He nods gradually as he attempts to sort everything she's said into manageable groups. What has she heard? How does she feel? Is there anything he can say to ease her fears?

"I'm a little slow today, Alexis, and I need you to help me out here. I thought we'd moved past the issue you had with me being at the precinct?"

"If you'll do anything for her now, jump in front of a bullet for her now, what kind of danger are you going to be in if you get together? And that's _if_ you get together. What if she finds out about what you're doing behind her back. You've been waiting so long and for what?" She crosses her arms, before turning away from him, and he stands there stunned.

There's just silence - a silence that's up to him to break.

Moving so that he can face her, he braces both of his palms on her shoulders, taking a deep breath for courage.

"I don't know what will happen Alexis. We could get together and be amazing. Or maybe the choices that I've made will cause us to crash and burn. But I can't stop living today because of what could happen tomorrow. And I've been waiting - that's been my choice - for a variety of reasons."

He doesn't need to go into the whys with Alexis, they're for him and him alone, and he's not going to apologize for holding onto the hope that his waiting will pay off, that Kate will see who is standing by her side.

After all, isn't that what her notes are telling him? She's finally realized he's there? That she has it right, that she believes in something - in them - again?

Isn't this their beautiful start to the rest of their lives?

"I understand that you worry. I worry about you too, especially now you're working at the morgue. About what you're seeing, about the innocence you're losing before you need to. But what I would do for Beckett is no different than what I would do for anyone that I love. Your Gram. You."

"Do you still love her? Even after all this time? Even after what she did last summer?"

He slants his head to the side, holds his daughter's troubled gaze as his fingers squeeze gently. He could write a thousand books and never be able to explain the feelings he has, how a smile forms when Kate looks his way, how he could spend forever with her and he would still want more time.

"I do."

Alexis drops under his hands, her head crashing into his chest, and his arms encircle her completely as he brushes a kiss to her hair.

"I just want you to be okay, Dad."

"I know." Letting her go, he tucks the loose strands behind her ears, grinning at her adorable concern. "Thank you. And whatever happens, it _will_ be okay. I'll even try hard not to screw it up."

"You might want to get a move on then. You've been staring at those notes so long, you're really running late."

Pulling a face - damn he's completely lost track of time - he dashes out of his office, the tension easing from between his shoulder blades. He's grateful that they've had this talk, that she's happy for him.

He doesn't need it, but he is thankful for it.

"And don't forget to grab Beckett a coffee on the way, Dad."

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.

Kate stands as Espo and Ryan exit the elevator, Bobby cuffed between them, and for the first time this morning, she smiles.

This is it. A current of anticipation hums in her veins, an excited clench pulls at her gut, and it tells her that this is their big break. It's a feeling she loves, the sensation that all their hard work is about to click together like perfectly made puzzle pieces.

Not every case has this moment, but she'd bet her morning coffee - where in the world is Castle with her hearts? - that what's about to happen is going to be life changing.

At least for her suspect.

Hurrying to Espo as he abandons Ryan to secure their potential bomber, she holds the file she's been reading between them.

"Do you want to join me in there? I've been finding what I can about Bobby. Not that there's much to tell."

At least until now.

"Where's Castle?"

She purses her lips together, lifting a shoulder. "No idea. Why? You two have a date this morning?"

His raised eyebrow calls her out, his look speaking volumes. Because yes, he's usually here by now, and yes, this is a big case and it's not like him to be anywhere but by her side.

But it is what it is.

"Nah, you take him alone. Kid like that might soften his macho stance without any more testosterone in the room." His palm settles against her arm. "That is if you remember how to do this alone?"

She shrugs his hand off, narrows her eyes, even if her mouth twitches with amusement. She's done plenty of interrogations without Castle, it's just when they're together, when they complement and pick up each other's train of thought, cracking their suspects apart - it's thrilling.

Why in the world would she not want that?

"Wanna watch me get a confession then?"

Espo's head shakes as he steps back, hands raised in surrender.

"I believe you. And anyhow, I have to get my own coffee - no one brings me one - so I'll be busy."

Smirking, she waves him off, and heads toward the interrogation room. It's time to get a confession, to finish this. It's _past_ time for her to take a chance and focus on her personal life, and with this about to be in the bag, she'll have that moment.

With Castle, she'll be able to sit down and work on them. On a future.

Because if nothing else, this case has been the wakeup call she's needed - that everything can be destroyed in a single moment.

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.

Thank you so much for your wonderful reviews and supportive words xoxo

I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to write back to you individually today, unfortunately my oldest has been fighting off a nasty cough this week and tonight he's not doing so well (thankfully I can post from my phone at the foot of his bed :-)

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Thank you to Jo for the beta and to both her and Jamie for all the pompoms xoxo

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Thank you for reading xoxo


	6. Chapter 6

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I choose you

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Chapter six

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We are not perfect  
>We'll learn from our mistakes<p>

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Hurrying toward Beckett's desk, a coffee clutched in each hand, Rick searches the bullpen for his partner. She's nowhere to be found though, the surrounding area nearly void of people, and he hovers, his fingers turning her cup in circles as he places it down between two stacks of paperwork.

It's nervous energy, an excitement that leaves his neurons twitching. Breathing deeply, he stops the spinning, her hearts lined up perfectly with the front of her desk - for whenever she returns...

He had tapped his foot impatiently while in line for their coffees, and has a sheen of sweat between his shoulder blades as a result of the run to get to her. He's more than a little lost with what his next move should be now that his rush was apparently for naught.

"Hey, Castle. Decided to join us this morning?"

Angling toward Esposito as he heads to his own desk, Castle shrugs, biting down on the rambling explanation that begs to burst free. Keep it simple.

"Hey. I've had no luck with those witness statements. You guys catch a break?"

Espo nods, his grin virtually a smirk. "Better yet, we caught the suspect."

Seriously? He can't believe today of all days he's running late, and while it's for the most amazing of reasons - her notes are tucked in his coat pocket again, right next to his heart - his body deflates a fraction.

"And I missed it? Where is he?"

"In the box with Beckett."

Strolling at a pace that Gates would probably consider inappropriate, he makes it past Espo only to come face to face with Beckett as she rounds the corner.

"Hey."

He didn't mean to make his greeting as soft and gushy as it sounds to his ears, but she's transforming in front of him, the slump to her shoulders disappearing, the line between her eyes melting away into smooth skin, and while it may not be true, he'd like to think that he did that.

Lightened the load she's carrying this morning.

"Hey."

The tips of her fingers glide like a feather across his right hand, across his knuckles where they're wrapped around his cup, and his breath stills in his chest, his vision narrowing until all he can see is her.

"Is that mine?"

"Of course."

Smiling - because of course he's hers - his cheeks ache with the effort, with how wide he's grinning, and he watches as her gaze travels from his hand to his face, her eyebrow arching.

"Castle?"

"Yeah?"

"Is that my coffee?" Her finger taps the lid, two short raps, and the meaning of what she'd actually said clicks into place - he wasn't the mine she was talking about.

"Oh, sorry, yours is on your desk. I was just on my way to watch your interrogation. Having any luck?"

Her hand drops from his as she sways in the opposite direction - away from him, away from what he'd asked and he extends his left hand, only to curl his fingers into a fist. There's a shadow crossing her features, an anguish that seems to tighten every muscle of her face, and it freezes a part of his soul.

But it's only for a moment and she's standing tall again, her expression free from the darkness he'd swear he saw.

"My-" She turns her head to glare at Espo as he not so subtly stares at them, her pointed look clear, and the other detective stoops to focus on his scattered files, "hearts are waiting for me then?"

She winks, skirting around him, and he'd follow Beckett to her desk, he would, if his legs hadn't turned to concrete. He can't help the feeling that he's missed something other than just an interrogation, something big. That she's edged around more than just him, that she's avoiding...

What?

Shoving it to one side, he forces himself to walk after her, and, seeing her as she grins adorably at the coffee cupped between her palms, he stumbles.

He knows he did that - who cares about the rest? - the hearts he drew yesterday caused that happiness, that lightness on her face, and damn if the sensation igniting every blood cell isn't perfection.

.

.

"Are you heading back in there?" Castle tilts his head toward the interrogation room, and she waves a hand, dismissing the idea.

"No. I'm going to let him sweat for a bit."

The words that had slipped from her lips in there - _"__Do you want to know trauma? I was shot in the chest and I remember every second of it," _whisper angrily in her ear, and she toys with the lid of her coffee cup. The hearts, _his _hearts, mock her and the truth that hasn't been voiced.

Not to the right person. Not to Castle.

"Do you want to go for a walk then? Get out of here? You look a bit…" He trails off, and she raises her gaze to meet his guilty one. "Great, you always look great. I just-"

She laughs, reaching between them, her finger poking him in the chest. The weight of what she's done temporarily lifts, and he stops digging the hole he'd been working on, delight flooding his features.

"Espo. We're headed out. Call me when Ryan gets back."

He waves from his desk, curiosity written into the lines of his face, but she ignores his unasked question, heading toward the elevator, Castle in step beside her.

"So do you have anywhere specific in mind?" Jamming a thumb into the button, she peeks a glance at her partner. Castle's shoulders lift before he buries his hands into the pockets of his pants, his lips moving without sound, and she slants her elbow, knocking it gently into his side until he meets her gaze.

"It's silly."

She arches an eyebrow. And?

"And a bit childish…"

"Castle."

Nodding, he leaves her side, stepping into the elevator after the doors slide open, and, looking back at her, he shrugs again.

"There's a nice park we could walk through. Reaffirm life?"

It's not a question, but his tone still ascends at the end, a hesitancy over what he's suggesting, and hearing this, she chases after him, her free hand sliding in the narrow space between his body and arm.

The line that she'd drawn in the sand, the barrier that has slowly been disappearing with touch after touch - lingering swipes as he helps her with her coat, hand squeezes in the loft - is well and truly eradicated with her move.

"I'd love to, Castle."

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.

"Is everything okay?" She speaks to his back, his lengthy stride pulling him ahead of hers as they dodge those rushing along the sidewalk, but the question has barely left her lips when he twists to stare her way.

"Of course. Why?"

Opening her mouth, she flickers her tongue across her bottom lip, watches as he tracks her movements, the blue in his eyes becoming black. Some nights, lying in bed, her hands her only company, she can feel him; the heat, the intensity as he'd kissed her, his body solid and firm against her own.

Oh, the mistakes of their past.

How different life might be if only they'd made other choices, walked along a joined path instead of two separate ones.

But she shakes her head slightly, dislodges the what ifs… this is a new day, with new beginnings.

"I-" What was she talking about? "I missed you this morning."

Snapping her eyes shut, she steps to one side and out of the way. This isn't the time or place, and her spine falls to the wall behind her as she lifts a hand, hiding behind her fingers. Really, Kate?

"Missed me, huh?"

"The coffee, Castle! I missed my coffee."

He's shuffling closer, his palm cupping her cheek, and she cants into the support, her eyelids fluttering open. The tenderness in his expression is akin to a stream of light, a warmth that would put the sunniest of days to shame, and she lowers her hand, takes away the umbrella shielding her own feelings, her own internal glow from him.

She may have made more than one wrong choice, but not anymore - she's not perfect, she's going to screw this up along the way, however that doesn't mean she needs to actively hold up a barrier between them anymore.

"I missed you, too, Rick."

His face breaks apart as she whispers the words - being brave is such a daunting prospect - there's no doubt within her though, no regret at her truth, just a sense of peace that's been absent for so many months… so many years.

"I'm sorry."

She thrashes her head side to side, the last thing she wanted was for him to feel apologetic for being late - can he be considered late when he's not officially on the force? - and she reaches for his hand, clutching his fingers under her own.

"Castle-"

"Okay, I'm not sorry. And it's nothing to worry about, just… Alexis, this case. Home and work jamming together has raised some concerns. But we talked it over and she seems fine." His skin crinkles around the scar on his forehead, before he nods once. "Yeah, she's happy about everything now."

Kate breathes out the air that had collected with each of his words, the anxiety that his daughter might not be okay with recent events - her showing up uninvited being the main one - rushes past her lips, and she smiles, even as her cell starts ringing in her pocket.

"Let me guess. It's Espo."

Regarding the screen with only half her focus - Castle's head bends down to see who's calling and it brings their cheekbones flush together - she attempts to steady the tremble to her hand as she lifts the device between them, allowing him to see.

He's right. There's no surprise there. And they turn as one, trudge back toward the Twelfth, and what is hopefully the end to this case.

.

.

"The answer is in the story. So let's start at the beginning…"

Her heart rate increases with his statement, a heat diffusing across her skin, and she smiles, her lips stretching a fraction more with each passing second. There's an aura that surrounds him, _them_, as Castle begins spinning a story. The anticipation builds, his voice rising and dipping as he adds each piece of evidence into his web, no detail left out until he's created a masterpiece.

And she gets to be a part of that, gets to be his partner.

Pulling herself away from her thoughts, she interjects after Espo does, points out that they just have to follow the breadcrumbs, work out whom Jesse spoke to on the cell before the bomb went off, and Castle once again picks up the tale, his eyes locking onto hers.

This is it. This is their swan song, the moment before all their hard work starts falling like stars, slotting together to reveal the killer. A bright light bulb would be perfect above her partner's head as he catches the boys up to where they already are.

Sometimes it really is like they're brain twins.

Although…

She wrinkles her nose, but then Castle says the words that she's been waiting for, "I know who Jesse's partner is," and meeting his gaze once more, she grins, flashing her teeth.

Hopefully he can see just how proud and lucky she is - that he's hers.

.

.

"Why didn't you come forward when you realized what you had done?"

Beckett's question is right on the money, and he nods an inch, schooling his features to hide the twitch of his lips. This is about to be over - case closed - and never has he looked more forward to the end, to the new beginning almost within his grasp.

"I thought about it, but what good would that do? I kept quiet for Jesse."

The reporter's words infiltrate his joy, slide through the cracks, and he turns his head, concentrates on Leann even as his daughter's worries, and her earlier concern about his choices come back with a vengeance.

He's keeping quiet. About the murder board at home, his stealthy investigation into Johanna's death, about the phone calls and the late night meetings… about the information he has in relation to their case, _her_ case.

"I wanted to protect his memory."

Leaning forward, his elbows rest on the interrogation table, his head dropping a degree. He understands - he just wants to protect Kate, keep her safe - even as the truth of what he's done rains down on him.

"That's what your friend Jesse would call sinning by silence." His words are barely a whisper as his breath leaves in a shudder.

Oh, damn, what has he done?

And how does he fix it without destroying them? Without handing her the bricks so she can build her walls right back up again, extinguishing all hope of them in the process?

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Thank you for all the well wishes, his cough is much improved, although he now has an ear infection :-( poor little dude. And thank you again for your support and also to the guests who I couldn't reply to, for your lovely words as well xoxo

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Thank you to Jo for all your hard work and to her, Jamie and B for listening to me complain about paint all weekend ;-) xoxo

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Thank you for reading xoxo


	7. Chapter 7

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I choose you

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Chapter Seven

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And as long as it takes  
>I will prove my love to you<p>

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Rocking from foot to foot, a sense of urgency races through her body, and as she nods along to Gates' speech of dismissal, Kate's fingers squeeze her elbows, her forearms pressing hard against her ribs where she has them crossed.

Telling Gates to hurry up won't get her out of here any faster - if anything she'd be in the Captain's office for a considerable amount of extra time - and she swallows her impatience. Seconds. She can count the time left to go in seconds if she wants to, and then their waiting is over. Case closed. Time to go home. The end.

Except, if she can get the words out, it will be anything but the end. If she can say what lines her heart, bleeds through her veins, overtakes every thought, then this will be their beginning.

If he can forgive her that is...

"The FBI has taken Leann West into custody. This woman, whose blind ambition led to the death of five people, will get what she deserves." Gates' spiel pauses for a moment, her eyes catching Beckett's before moving onto Castle, and following her gaze, Kate sways to her left, her shoulder brushing her partner's arm. They were great today. He was great.

"I um, I want to thank each of you for what you did to make this happen. You all put in one hundred and ten percent and made me proud. So let's get out of here, head on home, and catch up on some much needed rest."

Smiling, Kate turns to Castle, hopes he can see how proud she is of how he'd retold the facts until the story was as clear as any TV show. How he'd been by her side as Leann confessed to her crimes. How together they got justice.

She can't imagine not having that, going back to the days when it was just her and the boys, and she reaches between them, snags the cuff of his jacket. He twists hard into her body, his stare slicing her open, and the way his eyes darken, the blue disappearing as the black expands, sends a shiver down her spine.

It seems she's not the only one eagerly awaiting their exit.

"Do you wanna go out for a drink now?" A little bit of liquid courage is hardly going to hurt matters. It may even ease the crescendo of her heartbeat as it accelerates in her chest.

"Are we going out for drinks to celebrate?" Butting in, Espo crashes her party for two, and she whips her head in his direction, her vision narrowing.

"You want to come?"

Oh, for the love of all that is holy he needs to say no, or the measures that she'll be taking will be desperate ones. The interruption after interruption is too much for her to cope with. She's standing on the edge of this life changing moment, on the edge of a life with Castle, and if she has to sit through drinks with the boys first, she may take her gun out and shoot someone... Esposito and Ryan, to be specific.

"Sorry, it feels like a month since I've seen Jenny. I should really get home." Ryan bows out, and Kate inhales sharply as she concentrates on Espo.

His gaze travels from her face to Castle, and then back to her, one eyebrow lifting, his expression clearly asking what's changed - what's changing between the pair of them. She doesn't answer though, just stands a little taller, schools her face in order to conceal how much she's wishing for time alone with her partner, but he must see through her façade, and his teeth flash within his grin.

"Me too, I'm tanked."

If she could jump for joy without attracting attention she would, but as he throws her a wink, she merely rolls her eyes, turning to face Castle. To face her future, head on.

"Looks like it's just you and I, then?"

"Yeah." His chest appears to expand, his stature towering over her even with her heels on, but the sensation that envelopes her isn't one to be afraid of. It's like being sheltered from the December chill, like the first sip of coffee in the morning, like coming home.

She's so close to having it all.

"Is it okay if we stop by the loft first? I just want to check on Alexis and grab a few things."

.

.

"I can't believe this is what you meant when you said you wanted to 'grab a few things'."

Both of Kate's hands rise as she makes air quotes around his earlier words, and he grins until his cheeks hurt. It's nice to have surprised her, even if the last few days seem to be nothing but moments of wonder and beautiful disbelief.

And tomorrow awaits, they just have to make it through today in one piece. He has to hope that when he explains what he has been doing, why he's been doing it, she understands.

But right now, he's going to enjoy this second with her.

Waving goodbye as their driver pulls away in the town car they'd taken, Castle steps back onto the sidewalk, the basket of goodies clutched tight to his chest, two blankets thrown over his shoulder, and as Beckett reaches forward to lighten his load, he shakes his head.

"I've got it."

Her lips twist in the corner, a cute smirk that tugs low in his abdomen, but pushing aside _those_ thoughts, he begins his journey toward the open patch of grass under the lights strung high above for nights just like this one.

Granted maybe not for nights at the end of March, but he did grab the thickest blankets he could find in the loft, and if it gets too chilly, they can always cuddle for warmth.

"It's not going to be too cold out here tonight? Or was that your devious plan all along?"

Looking sideways at her, he wiggles his eyebrows, and the look on his face must be hilarious enough to set her off. Kate's turning into his side, her face hard against his bicep, body shuddering with laughter. He curses the fact that both of his hands are needed to carry the basket containing the thermos of cocoa that he made for them while she'd lingered in his kitchen, peering over his shoulder and interrogating him in the way only she can.

Not that he was revealing anything about his plans for tonight. Not yet.

He lifts his elbow, just a fraction from underneath her, would like nothing more than for Kate to slide her arm through the angle like she'd done earlier in the elevator. It's a bit of a far away wish, they're surrounded by people after all, yet, as her fingers curl around his jacket, hanging on to him as they walk the last few yards, his stride hitches, as does his heart.

"Are you right there, Castle?"

"Ye-ah." What is he twelve? And clearing his throat, he attempts to answer her again. "Yeah. Here looks good."

The frozen blast of winter has receded enough in the last few days that the crackle around them is considered more crisp spring, but it's only the brave out tonight. The couples under their own blankets are spread far and wide, and the spot they are standing in has minimal neighbors.

He sets the basket down, trying not to chase after her when she steps back, and, snagging one of the blankets from his shoulder, she works her side out and onto the grass, while he reaches for the other, smoothing the creases until it's ready for them to sit on.

This is it. The moment that they fall into each other's arms. Whisper declarations about how they've finally got it right. That they no longer need to wait. That they can believe in love again. They can be together.

Their eyes lock, the distance between them suddenly more a chasm then a simple blanket, and he flexes his fingers as they tremble. The desire to reach out and wrap them around hers, to pull her body flush against his own, sings louder than the music drifting from the speakers hung high in the bracketing trees. It plays their song, and he doesn't want it to ever stop.

Except Beckett tears her gaze away, landing heavily onto the edge of the blanket, her stare flitting from couple to couple - anywhere, it seems but at him - and he's forced to breathe out the long line of questions that are rising to the surface.

What just happened? For a fraction of a second he felt as if this was it, their moment, and he felt like he was flying.

But why is he crashing back down to earth now?

He doesn't need a writer's imagination to see the bricks stacking up one by one around her, and he falls to the ground, the air leaving his lungs in a puff as silence stretches between them.

A silence that should be filled with proof of their love.

.

.

What is she doing?

Clinging to the edge of Castle's blanket, she can't pull her focus away from the other couples around them, each pair huddled together, their expressions shining bright in the dark, their love written into every dip and smooth plane of their faces.

Leaning to her left, her skin tugs tight around her scar - _scars_ - and she drops her palm to the blanket, curls her body as much as she can to relieve the pressure. The reminder doesn't fade though - and neither will the marks that mar her, both inside and out.

She can't breathe. What does she think she is doing here?

She can't love like them. She's not whole. Not worthy of the man who sits beside her. For all the work that she's done, all the hours hashing out every detail of her life with Burke, she'll never be right.

She'll never be what he needs.

He should have uncomplicated and fun, unbroken and honest. Someone who doesn't run and hide. Someone who isn't her.

"Beckett."

She's going to screw this up. Screw him up. She's going to break him, them, until the little pieces of their jagged souls lie twisted and destroyed amongst the grass, and her chest constricts, the muscles contracting. Beads of sweat slide along her nape, her fingers tingling within the fists she holds them in.

"Kate."

His palm cups the side of her face, turns her head until she's looking at him.

If only she can lift her eyes.

"Kate. I'm right here."

Swallowing the sob that climbs her throat - doesn't he understand that's the problem? - she closes her eyes, counts backwards slowly in her head, attempts to calm the storm raging within.

"Just tell me, Kate. Just tell me."

She shakes her head. It's not that easy. It's never been that easy. And while she'd shown up at the loft, ready to make all the wrongs of their world right, she's forced to wonder now if anything would have happened that night.

Would she have panicked the way she is right now? Would they have never made any progress if she hadn't written that first message?

.

.

He's losing her. Somehow their romantic evening is spiraling away from them, slipping through his fingers, and he frantically seeks for a way to get them back on track, to where things were at the precinct.

They'd been doing so well, swapping their notes and hearts, taking steps forward regardless of how little they were. It was progress.

Progress that will be a distant memory if he can't recapture what they had...

And then it comes to him.

Dragging himself away from her side - there has to be something around here - he flips open the lid to the basket, searching inside. Shifting the thermos of cocoa, their coffee cups he couldn't resist adding in, the chocolate he'd discovered at the back of the cupboard, he looks, except...

Nothing.

Twisting back to Kate, ice slides across his skin. Her hair curtains her face, her knees to her chest, and he reaches to narrow the gap between them.

It's then that his jacket moves, his phone shifting against his hip, and he almost rolls his eyes in perfect imitation of her at his own stupidity.

This is the twenty first century! What is he thinking?

Grabbing for his phone, he calls up his notebook app, and as he holds it out to her, he sucks in as much courage as he can.

"Write me another love letter."

Her head jerks off her knees, her gaze smacking into his, and for a moment time stills.

"I haven't been writing you love letters." Soft amusement twirls around her statement, her body relaxing a fraction on the blanket, and he smiles, inching closer to her side.

"They were love letters. I loved the letters. Thus, they were love letters to me."

Red flushes her cheeks, her hair falling again as she moves to duck away from his statement, but he encloses her chin, stops her from hiding.

"Kate?"

Her fingers ghost across his as she takes the phone, and as she stares at the device, he moves until his lips are level with her ear.

"Write me. Tell me. What do you want?"

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Thank you again, and to those that were guest, you make a smile bright xoxo

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Thank you to Jo for the edit and to everyone that had waved a pompom for this hard week xoxo

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Thank you for reading xoxo


	8. Chapter 8

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I choose you

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Chapter eight

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I am not scared of the elements  
>I am under-prepared, but I am willing<p>

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What does she want?

Inhaling through her nose, the panic that had gripped her as she'd watched the other normal couples ebbs a little more, and she stares down at Castle's phone. Only he would think to use an app instead of paper and pen. Granted she doesn't have those things on her either, but this is so him that her heart flutters.

This time the rapid pace has nothing to do with anxiety.

She loves him. Loves the way that he thinks outside the box. Loves the way that he can read the emotions as they flicker across her skin. Loves the way that he loves...

He loves her.

And as she stares down at the cell in her hand, her vision clears. She knows what she wants. A part of her has always known, and she's no longer scared of the what ifs, no longer worried about how far she's got left to go to be whole.

All she has to do is tell him. Write him another love letter, and her fingers fly across the screen, her message appearing before her.

_I choose you_.

Sliding her palm over the cell, she twists to where he still hovers at her side, his head buried in the angle of her shoulder as he stares behind her, giving the illusion of privacy, and she smoothes her fingers along the arch of his neck.

His head turns with her touch, and with hooded eyelids, he peeks up at her.

"I-" Her lips move, except nothing comes out, and she shoves the phone hard into his chest, her eyes closing.

Why? Why is it that every time she stands so close to the edge, her feet become frozen, and she can't take that last step? She's taken so many of late… why is one more so hard?

The heat of his fingers as he takes it from her hand is fleeting, and she curls her nails into her palm, the desire to chase after his touch overwhelming.

"Kate."

She can do this. Open her eyes and move forward with the rest of their lives.

He's returning her message, the phone foreign in her hand, and she divides her gaze between his face and the device. What is he doing now?

The hesitant expression on his features steals her breath, and she shifts closer, her free hand lifting to his cheek, but he's pulling away, his finger tapping the screen.

It's only then does she focus on what she'd written. What he had typed in reply.

_Do you mean what I think you do?_

Oh, Castle.

The proof that she'd pulled and pushed far too many times is right before her. The cautious way he holds himself, as if he's afraid that the truth is anything but what it is, and she swallows the last of her fear.

Because she means exactly that. She loves him.

Selecting the correct letters, she brings those three words to life, hopes that with this he'll have no doubts.

No more subtext.

She positions the cell between them but doesn't let go when his hand slides across hers to take it. Not this time. This time she's going to do more than just type, this time she's going to tell him that she's finally got it right.

"I love you."

His head jerks up, eyes wide like he can't believe what he's hearing, that this day would never come, and she moves closer to his hip, her side pushing into his as their foreheads converge.

"I love you, Castle."

.

.

This is a dream. This has to be a dream because Kate is currently curled against his body, declaring that she loves him, and while he's heard it a hundred times while asleep, a thousand times in his imagination, this is the first time those three words have felt real.

Are real.

"Castle?"

"I love you." He squeezes his eyes shut for a second at the breathlessness in his tone and then tries again. "I love you, too."

Her head nods a fraction - he guesses that he's not exactly been subtle about it - her lips drawing slowly back, the corners shaking, and he lifts his thumb, brushing the skin around her mouth.

He could lean forward, close that last space which remains between them, keeping them separate, keeping them from each other, but before he kisses her and never stops, he has to know.

"What's changed?"

Her head pulls away from his touch, confusion wrinkling her features and he rushes to clarify.

"What's changed now, from… before, and needing closure? What you said-"

Her fingers skate across his lips, and he shuts his mouth, swallows the rest of the bumbling mess of his explanation. He wishes that he didn't need the answers, that he could take her and ride off into the sunset, but it's been a long year, a long time to be held at arm's length, and the last few days are suddenly catching up to him.

What happened to her wall?

"Nothing. Everything." Her head tilts away from him, and he doesn't chase after her, gives her whatever she needs to tell him. "I've been working with Burke-"

Well whatever she needs, and a couple of questions just to make sense of things.

"Burke?"

"He was my work appointed shrink, after- at least that's how it started out." Her shoulder shrugs, her hand reaching for the hem of his jacket, and he stares at the play of her fingers, the way they flutter against the material. So delicate. So fragile.

He drifts his own hand across hers as she weaves a tale that the storyteller in him is proud of. How she went back even after she'd been cleared, doing the homework that was assigned rather than rolling her eyes at the exercises - although he suspects the poor doc still received a fair bit of that. She explains the lows, her PTSD, the nights when the walls closed in around her, and it takes everything he has not to pick her up, envelop her within his arms and swear that he will never let anything hurt her again.

"I'm not there yet, Castle. And I'm sorry for it. That I'm not… better. Whole. But if I lost you tomorrow..."

His breath leaves in a huff and the promise that he'd just made to himself flies high into the night sky. With one arm around her shoulders, his other sliding under her knees, he transfers her into his lap. He doesn't ever want her to think that she's anything but perfect in his eyes.

"Kate," Both of his hands cup her cheeks, and he angles her head back until she finally meets his gaze. "You are better, you're whole."

Her mouth opens and he rushes to finish his thought.

"You're alive in my arms, and that's all I wanted. The rest will come. This. Here. That's what's amazing. How you fight, how you love, how you push yourself for more even when it's not needed. That's what makes you extraordinary."

.

.

She can sense the tears building at the back of her throat, at the corner of her eyes, because this man, this beautiful man is saying the most wonderful things about her.

And yet none of them are true.

"I'm not extraordinary, Castle. Not even close. If you knew what I've done-"

Every muscle in her body becomes rigid. That's not how she wanted to tell him, to just burst out that she's screwed up, to wreck this breathtaking moment of sitting in his arms, but the words are out now, and he is shifting underneath her, sweeping her hair away from her face, his palms hovering at the base of her neck.

"Beckett?"

Bringing her thumb to his mouth, she maps the contour of his lips, the arches and lines that she never had a chance to kiss - not properly, not with love - and that truth shatters her heart. One. Just one kiss to cling to, one kiss to store in her memory for after he walks away - rightfully - one kiss that's for them, and the possibility of what they could have been.

He's warm against her. His mouth opens immediately as she quivers against his skin, hesitant until his fingers tighten in the strands of her hair, and then any trepidation melts, fire consuming. For a second there's no past, no arguments and shootings, no hospital visit and avoidance, no running scared and no returning broken.

There's nothing but the hint of cocoa on his tongue, the solid line of his arms against her body, the feeling of finding home.

A place that she's about to take a wrecking ball to.

And she closes her eyes, attempts to take every single aspect of this miracle and remember it. Before she destroys it.

"Castle." Sliding off his lap, she lands with a thump onto the blanket, and lifting her knees, she curls her arms around her legs, fighting the urge to bury her head in the v before her. He deserves the truth, deserves the respect that comes with facing this - him - head on, though.

"Beckett, what's wrong?"

She locks her eyes with his, and inhales.

"I heard you. In the cemetery. I remember every second. I'm so sorry, Castle."

.

.

He's described scenes like this. Where the bomb drops, clocks no longer turn, the world falls out from underneath a character, and stupidly his first thought is that he's never described it accurately.

The second is that he never will.

Anger churns. His heart pounds. The rush in his ears drowns out the rustle of the trees. Disbelief is splinted with rejection, and it fractures his heart, his heart which mere seconds ago was complete and intact, glittering with the wonder at hearing her say, "I love you."

But she does love him?

That was real?

"Castle, I'm sorry. So sorry. There are no worthwhile reasons for what I did, how I- I guess I justified it in my mind, that I was doing the right thing. Where we were. And the circumstances-"

He holds up his hands. The words slipping from her lips one after the other as they trip and fall between them, are too much. He can't process them. He can't sort the sentences into order, and he shakes his head, her declaration the only thing managing to stay fixed in his mind.

"_I love you."_

Breathing in, he holds the air in his lungs before exhaling it and the debris that had flown about with her bombshell. Let it go.

"Do you love me? Did you? I just…" Why? Why run and hide and lie if she felt the same way all along? "Why, Beckett?"

He turns toward her, focuses on her face for the first time since this started, and when her gaze meets his, her eyes bleeding with every emotion that he can name and a half a dozen more that he can't, he falls toward her, his nose brushing the slope of her cheek.

It would be so much easier to turn and walk away if today hadn't happened, the last few days. If the tang of her mouth didn't coat his tongue, the heat of her body still lingering against his skin, if he hadn't heard what he did.

"A million whys, Castle, and not one of them excuses the mess that I've caused. The mess that I am. In the end, I think I just wanted to protect you. From myself, from what I had done. I'm sorry."

The hundred of emotions that were rippling under his skin, drain in a tidal wave, his body slumping into the hard edge of her shoulder, his fingers tingling with their sudden retreat.

"_I just wanted to protect you."_

Hasn't he uttered that phrase over and over? With the phone calls. The garage meeting. Every time he'd opened his file on Johanna's death and added another detail that Beckett doesn't know about. Is what he's done any better?

Is there any chance that they'll be able to leave the past behind them?

Although, he has to tell her what he's done first…

"I understand, Kate. I do. And there's something you need to know."

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.

Thank you all again, and to those reviewing as guests, much love, chocolate and coffee. Only one more to go xoxo

.

Thank you to Jo for the beta and both her and Jamie for keeping me going with this xoxo

.

Thank you for reading xoxo


	9. Chapter 9

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I choose you

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Chapter Nine

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And even better  
>I get to be the other half of you<p>

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He's speaking, explaining about a phone call after she'd returned to work, about keeping her away from her mother's case, about protecting her from _them, _but his voice is coming and going, and she's only hearing every other word.

What has he done?

The question repeats on loop as the air struggles to make its way into her lungs, sweat beading along her hairline, the surge of blood inside her eardrums disrupting his justification further, and she raises her trembling hand, palm facing him.

Stop. She needs him to stop.

He must have heeded her unspoken plea, because the pounding noise of her heartbeat no longer competes with any other sound, and she slumps another inch onto the blanket, her fingers reaching for it as she attempts to anchor herself to the ground.

Instead, she hits the smooth glass of his phone.

At some point Castle has apparently dropped it, and she stares down, her movements having awoken his cell from its sleep mode. Their messages to each other are a stark contrast to the white background and what they wrote slices her in half.

_I choose you._

It's what she'd typed out, what she wanted, and yet…

Has what he's done eradicated that? He's concealed details of the most important thing in her life. Treated her like a child and made decisions that he had no right to make. Kept secrets from her.

Oh.

Lifting her head, she gazes at his face, at the red lining his eyes, the sheen of moisture portraying how close he is to tears, and she swallows her own.

What he's done isn't going to be able to be forgotten, not today, probably not even tomorrow, and she knows that the choices that she's made are going to leave their own mark on him, on them, but as she looks away, down at his phone again, her second message leaves her exhaling out the fury that had engulfed her.

_I love you._

She does. And while for a moment everything had come crashing down around them, she knew that this wasn't going to be an easy discussion - granted she thought she was the only one holding things back - but as she runs a finger over the screen, she's struck by how this started.

She'd sat next to Val, had held one of the bombing victims, all because life isn't fair and tomorrow is never guaranteed, and it was then that she'd realized that it could be Castle whose life could be ripped away from her. It could be her life hanging precariously by a thread.

It was that anxiety that had her showing up at his loft, it was that newfound courage over the threat of a life without him that had her writing that first note, and what she needs to do now becomes clear once again.

And she picks up the cell, holds the illuminated screen toward him.

.

.

Kate's moving, her hand outstretched with his phone, and he screws up his face, wipes the back of his sleeve across his forehead. It had taken every ounce of strength he had to make it through his explanation, to carry on even after she'd curled into herself, and he's stayed on his side of the blanket, despite every molecule within urging him to touch her, to hold her until she understands why he did what he did.

But the silence continues to extend between them, and now as she returns his phone to him, traces of confusion weave in and out of the panic he has that she's about to turn and flee.

Run away from them.

After all, wasn't running one of the options that had zipped through his veins mere minutes ago as she'd spilled her secret?

"I'm sorry, Kate, for keeping this from you. But I won't apologize for doing everything in my power to keep you safe. To keep you alive."

Her head nods, it's only a fraction, but it's something and he takes the opening, inching closer to her, his hand taking the cell from hers.

"I meant what I wrote. What I said, Castle."

He snaps his eyes in her direction, his gaze joining with her hesitant one as her head tilts to one side, her stare flickering from his face to the other couples dotted around the grass oblivious to what has happened between him and Beckett.

"You still love me?" His question is so quiet that he's not sure if she hears him, but then her lips curl, the corners stretching.

"Do you still love me? Even with what I did?"

Yes. There's no doubt of that. Not now, not ever. Especially not with the burden that they both privately carried lifted from their shoulders, and he closes the gap between them, his fingers trailing along the slope of her cheek.

"I do."

A flush of pink blossoms across her skin, the lights above them adding to the hue, and he realizes what he has said. They're not there yet. Not even close.

One day though.

Letting go of the chuckle that was building in his chest, he grins, drifts his thumb down, until he's mapping the lines of her mouth. A mouth he very much wants to kiss now that the storm cloud overhead is rapidly retreating.

"We still need to talk about the case, about-"

He cuts off her words with his fingers, presses them against the plump flesh of her lips, because while he knows that there will be more to this discussion, it's not today. Tonight is for them.

"I will tell you whatever you need. But I won't let you put yourself in the crosshairs, that's not an option. That's not negotiable. I can't lose you, Kate. Not to this. Not to anything.

And he holds his breath as he waits for an answer.

.

.

Anger flares as he vehemently states what he won't be doing and she opens her mouth to object when the truth of his statement smacks hard into her chest. She would run at this, would run regardless of where she'd end up, and every hour in Burke's office, every minute that she had stood by Castle's side wishing for their chance, would be nothing more than a dream thrown from the tallest building.

It would be nothing. And for the first time in too many years she wants everything. A life. A future. A happily ever after.

"Okay."

His body jerks away from her, a hand grabbing her shoulder as he falls back and she reaches for his shirt, fists her hand in the material by his waist.

"Whatever we do, we will do together, Castle."

"Yes. Yes."

She tugs at him and his body shifts forward, the solid line of his chest flush against her shirt, but he doesn't stop and his movement pushes her until her spine levels with the ground below, his face hovering above hers.

It's too much. Too remincent of that day, and he must sense it as well.

The elbow that's digging into the blanket by her ear collapses and he sinks until he's lying along side her. Twisting, she mimics his position, and as they stretch next to each other, nose to nose, his hand brushes the strands of hair from her face.

"I love you, Kate. And I choose you, too. And whatever happens tomorrow, we will work through it, together."

And as his lips descends on hers, his tongue perfectly caressing the inside of her mouth, she smiles into their kiss, elation alighting the spark within her.

_They can now tell the world that they finally got it right. She will become his and he will becomes hers._

_**The end.**_

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My apologies for not getting back to each of your wonderful reviews for the last chapter, my crazy went to a new level this week ;-) They are such an amazing gift to receive and I do appreciate them xoxo

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This is will be it for me until next year, unless a one shot roars very loudly! Stay sane in the lead up to the holidays, and may they bring all the happiness and laughter to each of you xoxo

Thank you to all of you for making this year such a spectacular writing experience, and I hope to hear from you all in 2015!

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Thank you to Jo for the hard work betaing this and all my fic, as too Jamie xoxo I hope you enjoyed your birthday present and that it that it fitted within your prompt!

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Much love, and thank you for reading xoxo


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